


Jetsetting

by SolosOrca



Series: F1 AU [2]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F1 AU, M/M, pre-season so set about mid-march
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolosOrca/pseuds/SolosOrca
Summary: “What are you doing?”“It’s your prize for getting that right. Me in a compromising position.”





	Jetsetting

“Are you feeling okay?” Tezuka asked. Ryoma had been pressed against his side since they’d sat down on the sofa, sighing occasionally.

“’m happy,” Ryoma sighed into Tezuka’s shoulder. “It’s pathetic really.”

“It’s not,” Tezuka assured him.

“You agreed to come to all my races, it’s a big deal.”

“It is.”

“Then I should be happy,” Ryoma said, “and I am.”

“I wasn’t saying you shouldn’t be,” Tezuka replied, smiling softly at the top of Ryoma’s head.

“Good.” Ryoma sighed again. 

“Which countries are we going to?” Tezuka asked after a few more sighs.

“Guess.” Ryoma looked up at him, grinning, “guess right and you get a prize.”

Tezuka decided to humour him. “I know Australia is first because I’ve seen the plane tickets.”

“Excellent memory,” Ryoma said, swinging a leg over Tezuka’s legs so he was straddling him.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your prize for getting that right. Me in a compromising position.”

Tezuka raised an eyebrow and continued. “Japan.”

Ryoma ran a hand through his hair, fingers pressing into his scalp. “Well done.”

“The UK and US?” Tezuka guessed.

“One at a time,” Ryoma chastised him, “but you got them both right.” he leaned in and pressed their lips together ever so gently, barely a caress.

“That’s my prize for two?”

“You went for two instead of one,” Ryoma shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Belgium, Italy, Spain and Germany were rewarded with more soft kisses but France was met with a smirk.

“Don’t just list off European countries,” Ryoma said teasingly. “You’re close though, think south.”

“The Mediterranean Sea?”

Ryoma laughed, “too far south. And that would be too wet.”

What was south of France but north of the Mediterranean?

“Oh come on, you must know! It’s the most famous one!” 

“Monaco?”

“Well done.”

“What’s your favourite race?” Tezuka asked, trying to distract himself from Ryoma unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers occasionally brushing against his skin.

“Japan,” Ryoma replied, “and Spa.”

“Spa?”

“Belgium,” Ryoma clarified, “it’s what the track’s called. Spa-Francorchamps.”

“How many European counties have I got left?”

“Three. I think.” Tezuka raised an eyebrow. “I dunno if one of them is in Europe or not, but it’s called the European Grand Prix, so I guess it must be.”

“Clearly.”

“The Swiss Grand Prix was once held in France. F1 doesn’t make a lot of sense sometimes,” Ryoma shrugged. “so, next?”

Tezuka started to list off European countries, starting north and working his way down. Ryoma started to get bored as he listed off seemingly every country without hitting on the right ones. In the end, this was an excuse to kiss and touch Tezuka, not a test of the other man’s geography.

“Do you want a clue?”

“I’m fine,” Tezuka replied a little frostily. “Austria.”

“Finally,” Ryoma sighed, letting his hands wander across Tezuka’s exposed chest. “And?”

“Hungary?”

“Good,” Ryoma drawled, fingers trailing up Tezuka’s chest. Tezuka’s breath caught in his throat as the fingers got closer and closer to his nipples, stopping just below them. “And?”

“Switzerland?”

“Not even close,” Ryoma smirked taking his hands away. “It’s illegal there. That’s why they held it in France once.”

“Which way from Switzerland?”

“East. A long way east. Look, you’re got going to get it.”

Tezuka frowned and started to list off countries again, not ready to give up on this game. “Do I need to go east or west?” he asked after Turkey.

“I dunno,” Ryoma shrugged, “I sort of vaguely know where it is.”

“Azerbaijan.”

Ryoma blinked, “how did you know?”

“It was a guess,” Tezuka replied truthfully. “Your hands can go back where they were now.”

“It took you _ages_ to get it though,” Ryoma said, pushing the shirt off Tezuka’s shoulders, his fingers coming back to trace along Tezuka’s collar bones. “I changed my mind about what I was going to do next. But, you’re not over half way, you get a special prize for the next one.”

“China,” Tezuka said, “where you won your first race.”

“Have you been googling me?” Ryoma asked accusingly, but with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“A little,” Tezuka admitted, leaning forward but was stopped by Ryoma pressing his fingers to his lips.

“We’re still playing. _I_  decide the prizes.” He sat back and pulled his tshirt over his head, throwing it aside.

Tezuka swallowed thickly as Ryoma leaned forward and whispered “you’re not allowed to touch me until you win,” huskily into his ear.

“Canada,” Tezuka said and Ryoma caught his earlobe between his teeth, reveling in the gasp it pulled from Tezuka.

Brazil earned Tezuka a long, slow, open mouthed kiss. One that Ryoma was more than a little reluctant to break. So he made the prize for Malaysia one too. By the time he pulled away from the one he was feeling hot and bothered and wanted Tezuka to hurry up and guess them all so they could do something more interesting.

“Five more before you can claim your grand prize,” Ryoma said, wondering if Davide would like that pun. “One’s huge, one’s in Asia and the rest are in the middle-east.”

“Russia,” Tezuka said and Ryoma captured his mouth again, his hands gripping his hair. “And Korea? Singapore?”

“Singapore,” Ryoma told him before kissing him again. “Two more, then you can do what you want with me.”

“Um,” Tezuka managed, the idea of having his way with Ryoma mixing up his thoughts, “United Arab Emirates?”

“Yes, keep going,” Ryoma moaned, pressing himself full up against Tezuka.

The doorbell rang.

“I hate everything,” Ryoma muttered, kissing Tezuka carefully before clambering to his feet and stomping over to the front door, picking up his tshirt on the way and pulling it on. “You should probably get dressed, I doubt it’s someone dropping off the post.”

“Oh,” He said when he opened the door, revealing Bane-san and Davide. “It’s you.”

“Is that any way to greet your dads?” Bane-san cried, slinging an arm around Ryoma’s shoulders and piloting him back into the apartment. “We’ve bought some action films, drink and snacks!” Ryoma racked his brains, he was sure he hadn’t invited them over -not that that had ever stopped them.

“I’m busy,” he tried in vain, but Davide had sidled off to find Karupin and all hope of an evening alone with Tezuka was lost.

“Bahrain,” he whispered to Tezuka half an hour later as they were all squished on Ryoma’s too small sofa watching the worst movie the F1 dads had ever found and forced Ryoma to sit through. Thankfully, he was now old enough to drink.

“I’m sorry?” Tezuka asked, confused.

“The last one is Bahrain,” Ryoma told him as something exploded in the film, no doubt not furthering the plot in any way.

“What are you two whispering about?” Bane-san demanded.

“Nothing,” Ryoma muttered bitterly.

“Davide, the children are flirting!” Bane-san cried, dramatically holding his heart. “They grow up so fast!”

“They’re _paw_ sitively in love,” Davide said, holding up Karupin’s paws.

Ryoma buried his head in his hands and groaned. It was going to be a long evening.


End file.
